


Ch’olan for Dummies

by Pistol



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: F/M, M/M, That one time I really got into the golden age of piracy and wrote Cougar's parents in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:07:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22041916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pistol/pseuds/Pistol
Summary: The year is 1527 when Clay loses both his ship and his captaincy to Max. OR:'Terrible parental mortification transcends cultural boundaries.'- Coinin
Relationships: Carlos "Cougar" Alvarez/Jake Jensen, Cougar's Mom/Cougar's Dad
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Ch’olan for Dummies

**Author's Note:**

> To Zoronoa - who has earned a black-belt in Art-Fu and who has also somehow managed to trick my boss like her more than me despite having talked to him for less than a minute.  
I suspect blood-magic was involved on both counts.

Xoc is her sixteenth summer when men with strange clothes and even stranger facial hair appear near the Nututun river. They're peaceful, trading for food and speaking in a sloping language that rolls in their mouths but means nothing to her people. 

One of the men is very odd. He is often away from his group, staring at their houses and the surrounding wildlife, sitting down to draw them in his bound sheets of paper. 

When Xoc goes to fetch the morning water, he is there. He raises a hand in the air towards her, but she ignores him, quickly filling her pot and returning down the path. 

For the next three days, he is there when she draws water in the morning and he is there when she draws water before the final meal. Every time, he raises his arm, smiling, and every time she ignores him.

\----

_"You must be the laziest man I have seen, sitting in the grasses and scratching at your papers all day. Do you even know what work is?"_ Xoc tuts at him on the fifth morning.

He startles, spilling his papers as he looks up at her. He smiles widely, and more of his people's nonsense falls from his mouth. He pats his chest with his hand, smearing black marks over his shirt as he repeats a word over and over.

Xoc clicks her tongue at him and fills her pot in the river. _"I see you are also a fool, to stain your fine clothes."_

He smiles at her, his wide eyes and rounded forehead drawing her attention not for the first time. He chatters on to her, patting his chest and leaving more fingerprints. 

Xoc shakes her head at him, _"Go back to your papers and stop ruining your clothes."_

He beams at her again, but she ignores him, settling her pot on her head and heading back. 

\----

On the sixth day he is no longer sitting to the side of the trail but standing by the river. Xoc pauses on the trail and debates heading back. He spots her before she can act, hand rising in the air as he smiles at her. His other hand holds open his bound papers towards her.

Xoc sighs, glancing back towards the city before heading foreword. 

_"If you attack me I will break your head open with my pot and offer your blood to the Moon Goddess,"_ Xoc warns him.

He smiles, patting his chest again and repeating his favorite word before holding out the papers to her. Carefully she sets her pot down and approaches, taking the papers while keeping a steady eye on him. She glances down at the paper and does her best to not laugh.

_"You are a terrible artist. This woman has no neck. If this is a woman at all. Perhaps this is a deer?"_

His smile falls, a wounded but hopeful look remaining as he starts his rambling nonsense. He gestures towards the paper and towards Xoc over and over.

_"Lazy Artist, please tell me you do not think I look like this."_

Lazy Artist raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, looking confused and curious as ever. 

Xoc sighs and hands him back the papers. _"This is not the worst art I have seen,"_ she finds herself telling him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. _"But it is close. Thank you for your terrible art, it will make me question my beauty and ability to obtain a husband."_

With that she hefts her pot and makes her way to the water. When her pot is full and she turns around he is still standing there staring at her with a soft gaze.

As Xoc starts the final meal she wonders when this became her favorite time of the day. Perhaps she has become as mad as the man by the river.

\---

_"My feet ache and my bleeding time is making me wish for my death and the death of those around me,"_ Xoc informs Lazy Artist when she comes down the path. _"If you show me art that makes me look like a deer I will throw you in the river and hold you under till your spirit leaves you."_

Her lazy artist is wise enough to look concerned and when he rambles at her, it's quieter than normal.

_"Akhushtal is an evil spirit wearing the skin of my sister. Today she rips my best dress and breaks the statue in our family’s shrine. Mother has made her consume a shard of the statue, but we still fear our luck may be poisoned by-"_ Xoc startles, the words turning into a shout as two hands suddenly move to take her pot from her. 

Lazy Artist looks equally surprised, moving backwards and holding out his hands in a gesture of apology while rambling quickly at her. He lifts the pot under her gaze and moves it to the river, filling it before standing and holding it out for her to take with a hopeful look.

Xoc wants to scowl, wants to beat him with her pot, but his obvious distress stops her.

She snatches back the heavy pot with a scowl. _"I will not kill you for this, but do not test me."_

\----

From then on, Lazy Artist waits for her by the flowering tree on the trail. He holds out his hands with a smile, and each time Xoc hands him her pot that he carries to the river and fills.

_"This is women's work, you strange creature."_

Lazy Artist stops his rambling and smiles at her, like he always does when she speaks, and continues to carry the filled pot.

_"I will not complain if you are foolish enough to labor for me. Perhaps it is good that you do this, you will learn what work is."_

He watches her as she speaks, eyes soft and no longer so alien looking.

_"My name is Xoc,"_ she tells him on a whim as they reach the flowering tree. _Xoc._

\----

In Xoc's seventeenth summer Lazy Artist and his friends have made themselves a semi-permanent camp in one of the abandoned sections of Palenque.

_"Hello,"_ Lazy Artist greets her with his silly accent at their tree.

_"Hello, my lazy artist."_

He beams at her, taking her pot and carrying it on his head with the awkward skill of a woman before her maiden years. 

_"Good?"_ He asks her hopefully.

Xoc nods and does her best not to laugh. _"It has been a good day."_ Xoc bites her lip, daring to ask what so many people have wondered for so long. _"Will you and your friends be staying here?"_

Lazy Artist frowns, tilting his head. _"Not know what?"_ He stumbles over his words despite his effort and Xoc pats his arm in understanding.

_"It's not important,"_ she decides, leaning up to kiss his cheek. Lazy Artist's face turns red, and he looks away, speaking quickly in his native tongue. _"I may wear red shells on my belt, but I have known a man. I think perhaps you have not known a woman."_

Lazy Artist looks confused, and strangely sad as he searches for meaning in her words.

_"You do not smile as much as you used to,"_ Xoc murmurs as her fingers reach up to stroke at his facial hair. The tiny hairs tickle her fingers. 

Lazy Artist says something in his own tongue before switching awkwardly to hers. 

_"Xoc. Xoc,"_ he touches her face each time he says her name before gesturing towards himself. "Curcio. Curcio." 

\----

_"You should teach me more of your tongue,"_ Xoc tells Curcio between kisses. _"It is only fair."_

Curcio laughs. _"Only if I am allowed to draw you without complaint and abuse."_

Xoc rolls her eyes, stealing another kiss under their flowering tree. _"Despite what I have lead you to believe, I am no goddess. Impossible things cannot be asked of me."_

\----

When Xoc finds herself promised to Ah Puch, she smiles her way through her morning chores and runs to the river when it's time to fetch more water. 

She tells him her fate. Curcio smiles, but there is no happiness in it.

_"Ah Puch, he is a good man?"_

_"He is... kind. From a good family with fertile fields,"_ Xoc admits. _"He would not dare beat or mistreat me, but he also would not insult me with his art."___

Curcio closes his eyes, leaning in to press his forehead to hers.

"_Would you let me draw you without fear of injury?_"

_"Just this once."_

He fills a whole page with her, her legs too long and crooked while her shoulders jut out like angry birds. His tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth as he works on the pattern of her dress and the scar on her arm. He draws every detail of her, often warped, but he doesn't draw her tears.

_"It's beautiful."_

Curcio laughs at her lie, and pulls her into a kiss.

\----

Curcio is absent from the tree the next day. 

When Xoc finally finds an excuse to go near the western part of the city his people's camp is long deserted.

\----

Her mother notices before she does, but Xoc doesn't notice much these days besides an empty place near a flowering tree. 

_You have not bled for some time,_ her mother says with harsh eyes.

\----

Xoc knows she is lucky her tribe is as small as it is. Her people's numbers have been falling for so long that they can no longer afford to sacrifice more than one or two people at the altar each year.

A woman, especially one carrying a child, is too precious to kill.

However, a daughter carrying a foreigner’s child is not precious enough to be allowed to dwell within her mother’s home. And a bride-to-be carrying another man's child quickly loses any chance at being a bride.

\----

Xoc makes her home in one of the many abandoned houses near the market. The house she chooses has a patch of fertile soil behind it that will help keep her and her child fed in the hard years likely to come. 

The house is old, the adobe in need of repair, but Xoc makes do. 

She plants manioc and corn behind her house and is gifted two young deer by the war widow across from her fields who examines the scraps of paper that take the place of the household shrine.

_"Where is the father? What kind of coward does not take you into his house, at least as a concubine?"_

Xoc tries to smile. _"Elder, the father left when the other foreign men left."_

The old woman tuts at her but wears no sign of scorn as she moves to observe the swell of Xoc's stomach. 

_"Your stomach will make fetching water impossible soon. But don't fret, I will help you. In return, you can help an old woman with her weaving."_

\----

The war widow, _grandmother_, she insists, teaches Xoc to weave in her house as Xoc's stomach grows. It's a skill too rich for the daughter of potter, but grandmother just clucks her tongue and ignores Xoc’s protests.

_"I have no daughter, and in times like these, we cannot be picky. Out tribe is small and our winters are cold. Besides, you will not fit into your dresses for much longer."_

\----

Xoc's weaving brings in enough money to repair her house and pay for a girl to bring her daily water. 

It also brings her name weight in the tribe, if not respect.

_"See now, how they come to you with offerings and kind words?"_ Grandmother whispers to her in the market. _"Give your thanks and take their offerings, but never forget what they offered when you had no items to trade. If you see a person in need of kindness, remember that, and give them your kindness even if they have nothing to offer you."_

\----

A screaming child arrives on the day of the Jaguar God. Xoc feels joyous beyond measure and at the same time the very hair on her head seems to ache. She falls asleep the moment her child latches onto her breast, the sounds of Grandmother fussing over them lulling Xoc into slumber.

\----

When Xoc is mostly healed Grandmother begins to make noise about looking up her child’s name in the calendar, but Xoc stops her.  
_"He will be named for his father."_

Grandmother stops, confusion plain on her face. _"His father?"_

_"Curcio."_

Grandmother scoffs. _"That name is nonsense."_

Xoc holds her chin high and Grandmother takes one look at her and shakes her head. _"Such things would never have been allowed in my time. But clearly times have changed. Our cities are empty, our altars are dry of blood, and our crops die before we can harvest them. Perhaps it is no harm to give a child such a name."_

Xoc smiles, wrinkling her nose. _"It is an odd name. Perhaps, we change it to make it less..."_ Xoc trails off, switching her son from one arm to the other.

_"Terrible?"_

Xoc chuckles, brushing a wisp of hair back from her son’s forehead.

_"How about Curo? Cogor? Cougar?"_ Grandmother murmurs as she traces a wrinkled finger over the baby's face. _"It's still nonsense, but better sounding than Curcio."_

_"Cougar,"_ Xoc tries out the name, rolling it around on her lips.

\----

Xoc ignores the pressure from the others to bind her son’s forehead. Already she can see signs of his father in his face, and a curved forehead no longer seems like such a terrible thing.

_"You're an odd girl,"_ Grandmother tells her with a fond smile. _"Is it your goal to make your boy as odd as his name?"_ There's no malice, only gentle teasing that warms Xoc's heart.

_"Maybe I am. Maybe when he's a man I'll let him keep his facial hair like his father did."_

Grandmother chuckles, shaking her head and rocking Cougar in her arms. She leans down, speaking to him in a whisper. _"Let us hope there is a girl born whose tastes are as strange as your mothers."_

Cougar knows he's a bit of a peculiarity. 

He stands out from the other boys his age. Cougar's a little taller, with a curving forehead, and his facial features are sharper than those of the others in the tribe. 

As a child, he quickly grew immune to the comments and barbs the others make about his appearance.

_"I have my fathers face,"_ he tells them when they are bold enough to ask.

The interest in him quickly wears off when they receive no temper or tears. By his eighth summer Cougar's oddness is forgotten or ignored by everyone.

\----

When Cougar reaches sixteen summers Grandmother's son offers to take Cougar into his house to teach him the skills of men. 

\----

_"You spoil this old woman."_ Grandmother praises when Cougar arrives with a squirming fawn in his arms. _"When this one grows large and fat I will make a hearty stew to thank my clever trapper."_

Cougar smiles and silently allows Grandmother to fuss over him, admiring the beads his mother had only today woven into his hair. 

He feels himself stand taller under her eyes.

_"My little Cougar, already becoming a man."_ Grandmother pets at his hair fondly, fingers running over the beads. _"I think it's time I gave you a gift I've kept for many years."_

Grandmother’s eyes sparkle as she reaches into her pocket and holds out her hand, three plugs made of carved and polished bone gleaming in the palm of her hand. 

_"I had these made from the bones of the first deer you ever caught for your mother."_

Cougar reaches out, touching one of the pieces with awe before giving her a tiny smile.

_"I've completed my chores for the day. When you've done the same, come back here and I'll pierce you myself."_

Cougar's nods quickly. _"Thank you."_

She scoffs. _"It's nothing. Thank you, for gracing a strange old woman's house with company and her table with fresh meat."_

\----

_"Your mother has been getting more and more gifts and visits from the parents of young women."_

Cougar grunts, placing the water pot down by the fire before wiping the sweat from his brow.

_"She has turned them all away so far."_ Grandmother gives him an assessing look._"I wonder, what are your thoughts on this? Do you want a wife?"_

Cougar makes himself busy fussing with the fire, ignoring the burn in his cheeks.

_"Ah. So your mother is correct."_ Grandmother clucks her tongue. _"What happened to my sweet boy? The one who would have told his grandmother so she didn't lose her favorite pot to his mother."_

Cougar rolls his eyes, standing to place a kiss on her weathered cheek as she makes a dramatic sigh.

_"I will buy you a new pot. A better one,"_ he promises.

_"Yes, and you'll make sure to tell this old woman your secrets so she isn't outsmarted by your mother."_ Grandmother grasps his hand, squeezing it. _"You should know how unbearable she is when she's right."_

\----

In Cougar's seventeenth summer Grandmother passes during the winter. Cougar spends a whole day digging her grave in the cold earth and refuses the aid of the others in the village. 

\----

Grandmother is not the only person he buries that winter. 

A burning sickness that leads to madness and death spreads through their tribe. Their numbers are cut in half by the first signs of Spring. 

Cougar's mother works her fingers raw weaving nonstop to make cloth to trade for goods the tribe desperately needs. When he tries to coax her from the loom she resists.

_"I have to do this,"_ she tells him, touching lightly at his cheek. _"People are too sick or too busy caring for the ill to plant crops. Our tribe will fall to pieces if we have nothing to barter with and no food to eat."_

\----

Word from the other tribes began to taper off as mixed news of a powerful empire spreads. 

_"We'll be fine,"_ Cougar's mother insists as they plant their crops. _"These people only are interested in trade. They will leave us in peace."_

She smiles up at him, throwing a handful of dirt at him when he finishes his row and moves to finish hers as well. _"When did you go from a child to a man? It feels like yesterday you could barely walk, but today your face sprouts hair."_

Cougar reaches a tentative hand up to the scratchy hairs on his jaw. His mother pokes at his side.

_"Will you shave it off?"_

Cougar shrugs. _"Perhaps."_

His mother’s face grows tender, looking up and him with sad eyes. _"You almost look like your father with your hair like that."_

He gives her a curious look that causes her to chuckle.

_"He wore his facial hair and took great care in it. He would remove all but the hair over his lip."_

Cougar frowns. _"Could you show me?"_

_"He allowed me to watch his grooming a handful of times. I will show you what I remember once this field is planted."_

The team sent out for a cursory sweep returns to the landing site with a struggling child dragged behind them.

"What is the meaning of this?" Clay barks as he makes his way to meet them.

Wade smirks, pushing the terrified boy forward and turning him to display a woven band inlaid with green and black stones wrapped around his arm. Clay's ignores this and his expression remains thunderous.

"I asked for an explanation. I suggest you give me one before I have head."

"This _is_ your explanation, _Captain_." Wade reaches down with his free and rips a beaded lock of hair from the child's head, prompting the boy to scream and struggle desperately. Wade holds out the clump of hair interwoven with golden beads for inspection. 

Clay growls and draws his cutlass, leveling it at Wade’s neck. There is sudden silence from the men gathered on the beach. 

"Have you gone _mad_?" Clay hisses. "Release him."

Wade's smirk sours, but he releases his grip on the boy, who wastes no time beating a hasty run for the tree line.

"Are you blind, Captain?" Wade says with narrowed eyes. "You saw that creature. There are more like him. At least two dozen playing unguarded to the west. All of them _drip_ with gold and stones. There is a _fortune_ waiting to be made."

From the men assembled, Max steps forward to stand beside Wade. "He has a point, Clay. Imagine what treasures await us if even the children here are adorned with enough gold to buy entire _herds_ of cattle."

"We're pirates, _not_ back alley thieves so desperate for coin that we would injure or steal from babes."

"So we should ignore treasure, just waiting to be taken, so as not to offend your lofty ideas of morality," Max muses. He takes the lock of hair from Wade, turning to the men assembled on the shore. "Look!" he booms, "These creatures obviously know _not_ what they have. Is anyone here but our Captain so righteous they are not tempted to relieve them of it?"

Murmur of approval come in spatters from the crowd.

"And how do you purpose to do this?" Clay barks. "Will you round up every child you see and threaten them with death in exchange for their possessions? That is the act of _beasts_, not men! And to what end will it lead, when their people come for revenge? We know not who we anger, and this is foreign shore. We need _allies_ here, not war."

"The Captain's right," Jolene agrees from the crowd. "Forgetting that what Max proposes is a vile, _vile_ act, we do not know beyond one or two plants what is edible here. Much less the nearest source of clean water."

Wade scoffs. "Counsel from a _woman_."

"You'd be wise to take counsel from her," Clay snaps. "She is a learned surgeon and an experienced sailor, which is more than I can say for you."

Jolene meets Wade's gaze with narrowed eyes. "Wade, what lies between my legs means nothing in this conversation, and it is something you only have hopes to dream fondly after."

Max moves forward, placing a firm hand on Wade's shoulder and stopping his advance. 

"Dear surgeon, you speak of our need for water and food, do you?"

"It is a valid concern. Our stocks are depleted."

"Indeed, it is so," Max smiles, slow and oily. "We would not _need_ such basic supplies so dearly had our journey not been thrown off course by foul luck. It is a shock we even _survived_ after our Captain brought his.... choice of crew aboard."

_"Max." _

Max ignores Clay's warning. "I have heard the whispers. I know I am _not_ alone, not by far, in thinking our luck is cursed by their very presence. How could it not be? We sailed with not one, but _two_ women on our ship! Not to men-"

"You _knew_ the crew, but you still boarded and signed your name to the Articles," Clay growls. "And had Jolene _not_ sailed with us, how many men would have died without the aid of a surgeon when the Navy found us? How many more weeks would we have been away from land if not for Aisha's knowledge of this region?"

Max waves a hand in dismissal, turning to face the growing number of men observing the argument. "Under our current Captain, we are made to sail with _undesirables_ on our ship, we are denied treasure _ripe_ for the taki-"

"They are children, Max! There is a difference between threatening a man an-"

"They are _savages_," Max spits, his lips curling in disgust as he turns to face the crowd. "We have sailed under our good captain's rule, but perhaps now it is time to make a _change_. To take a vote- one that could line our pockets with gold and bring _good_ luck on the voyage home. What say you, men? Would you like to return home rich as kings?"

The noise of the crowd is almost overwhelming.

Max turns back to Clay with a smirk. "I believe the crew has spoken."

"This is mutiny." 

"No, it is not. By the Articles this would be considered a vote of majority," Jensen pipes up. He pushes up his spectacles, wincing when he catches sight of the look Clay sends his way. "Which is not to say I agree with the vote. At all. Of course I stand by Clay, and would sail under no other Captain."

"Aye," Pooch agrees. "The crew will sail without a merchant master as well if they make such a choice."

"And a surgeon," Jolene says with crossed arms.

Roque looks indifferent, but he nods. "You'd lose your gunner." 

"All easily replaced," Max assures the crowd.

"Really?" Jensen asks with a raised eyebrow. "I was under the impression that only Jolene, Aisha, and myself had any knowledge of reading or mathematics. Understandably, I am terribly curious to see who will replace me as quartermaster."

Max scowls. "Wade and I have a knowledge of both." 

"I think you meant to say Wade has_no_ knowledge and that you have cursory knowledge, at _best._"

Wade growls, shaking off Max's hand and advancing towards Jensen, only to be stopped by Aisha's sudden appearance and her dagger at his throat.

"Would you really trust a man like Wade to divide your loot fairly?" Aisha asks the crowd while her eyes remain locked on Wade. "A man who has once earned Moses's Law for stealing? Is that the kind of man you would trust to keep and distribute your earning?"

"Wade has learned his lesson. And I would ensure such a thing never happened again," Max says sweetly.

Aisha observes Max and the other men standing on the shore before retracting her blade. "Then those who follow you are fools that will learn the hard way. And you, Max, are something much worse than a fool."

Max shrugs. "Call me what you will, still I will give you till the count of fifty to be gone from my sight, else my men and I will cut you down."

\----

"That... could have gone better."

"Jensen, give me silence," Roque growls. "Or when I get untied, I swear I will beat you to death myself."

"And I will beat you both," Clay snaps, straining against his own ropes before slumping back against the tree. "Anyone having better luck than I?"

"No," Pooch mutters, "and what devil possessed you to keep _prodding_ them, Jensen?"

"I did nothing of the sort, I merely voiced my doubt that Max or his crew could count to fifty."

"You called him a coxcomb," Jolene points out. "And I'm not sure what you said after that, but I doubt it was complementary."

"I was just demonstrating proof of Max's failings. How will he find safe ports if he can not even speak the languages?"

Jolene rolls her eyes. "Brave words for someone who _forgot their sword_."

"Where _is_ your sword, Jensen?" Pooch's irritation is clearly written on his face.

"In my cabin."

"What is it doing there when you are on _land_!?"

"Guarding my books?"

Pooch makes a frustrated sound, struggling against his bonds. "This is all your fault, I hope you are aware of this."

"How is it _my_ fault we are all bound to trees? Roque is the one who sliced at Wade with his sword!"

"He only engaged Wade because you has no sword to defend yourself when Wade decided to punish you for your words!"

Jensen sniffs. "We will agree to disagree, then."

"No," Clay growls, "I think we can all agree your mouth landed us here."

"Truly, and you being stripped of your rank by your former crew had _nothing_ to do with this."

\----

It is halfway through the day by the time Max and his crew return, arms laden with treasures and swords stained with blood. Wade smiles, tipping his hat towards them as the crew make their way back to the dinghies.

Max moves to stand before them, smirk firmly fixed on his face.

"You should see the booty we have liberated from the locals. Such riches, just lying about."

"I also see blood drying on your swords," Clay growls.

Max nods. "Some of the natives took offense to our treatment of their young."

"What did you do?" Jolene asks in a weary voice.

"What was necessary."

"To children?" Clay sighs, closing his eyes. "Is it their blood dried on your sword?"

Max shrugs, smirk still firmly in place. "One of them gained control of Davis's sword. It seemed wise to prevent such future actions."

"Monster," Jolene hisses. "_Beast._"

Max hums, turning to watch the men already rowing their way back to the ship. "I am many things, dear woman, but mostly, I am a busy Captain now. I have a ship to run, and the location of a great city to the north where the very walls are said to be lined with gold."

"And you know this how?" Clay questions with narrowed eyes. "Did you manage to teach yourself their language in between butchering their children?"

Max laughs, shaking his head. "No. Nothing of the sort. But I made it very clear what I wanted. You would be surprised how rapidly people can be motivated to understand one another when a cutlass is put to their child's throat."

"Recreant."

"Ah, but a recreant with a ship and a crew ready to sail north," Max sneers down at them before focusing on Clay. "And you, Clay, what have you?"

"I have my honor and an un-damned soul, which is more than you can say."

Max shrugs, turning to walk towards the where Wade waits next to the dinghy, preparing for it’s last trip. "I will live to see the sun rise, Clay. That is more than any of you can say. I imagine the remainder of their tribe will be looking for blood."

By nightfall, they are no closer to freedom from their ropes then they were when they were first tied.

"We are damned," Roque complains for the hundredth time.

Jensen clicks his tongue. "Negativity gets us-" Jensen stops, tilting his head to the side, staring down the beach. "Jolene, sweet, sweet Jolene, I believe I am going mad. I request your medical opinion on this matter."

"You have been mad since I have known you. This is nothing new."

"Ah. Then perhaps you can explain why I see a half naked man wearing our cooper’s, well, our _former_ cooper’s hat?"

Pooch snorts. "While there is no one here who is unaware of your deviancy, perhaps it is still not wise to speak of your dreams aloud in the presence of ladies." Pooch frowns. "Or myself. I would be _very_ happy to remain ignorant. I might even pay you for your silence."

"Nay, let him speak. If I am to die, I wish to do so with pleasing images in my mind." 

"Wife-" Pooch's mouth snaps shut, and he leans towards Clay and drops his voice. "There is indeed a man watching us to the south."

Quickly four pairs of eyes join Jensen's and Pooch's on the man standing at the edge of the forest line.

"Pleasing thoughts indeed," Jolene repeats with a smirk.

"Woman! Now is not the time!"

"Linwood, I would advise you watch your tone," Jolene snaps. 

"Both of you! Be silent!" Clay orders as the man slowly approaches.

"His face is painted," Jensen muses. 

"Warriors and the holy men of these lands are known to do so," Aisha says quietly. "But the bow in his hand aimed at us leaves little doubt as to which we see before us."

"Is he from the same tribe as the children?" Clay asks, eyes fixed on the approaching man.

Aisha snorts. "I have been on these lands only once before, and that was when I still sailed on my father's Bilander. To expect such knowledge is to expect silence from Jensen or civility from Roque."

"Useless wench," Roque mutters.

"Puffed up coxcomb," Aisha says with a sweet smile.

The group falls to silence as the man stops twenty paces from them, arrow lined up against his bow and pointed at them.

"Greetings," Clay tries.

The man tilts his head, studying them, but says nothing.

Clay pauses. "I swear we have had no hand in the atrocities visited on the people here."

"He doesn't understand you, Clay," Jensen points out.

"What would you have me do, Jensen?" Clay growls back at him.

Jensen shrugs, looking over towards the painted man. "I like your hat."

"By the Mass," Roque mutters. "Is this truly the time for such things, Jensen?"

"Compliments to a person are always appropriate, Roque. Flattery is well known to-" 

"Really? He most likely believes us to be the devils who slaughtered his tribe's children and you want to discuss the fine way you feel he wears a stolen hat?"

Jensen shrugs. "He wears it well."

"He is also wearing feathers and earrings, shall we natter on about those next?"

"If you like. I must admit, Roque, I had no idea such things held your interest."

The man in question tilts his head, frowning at the group before speaking quietly.

"Did anyone understand that?" Clay asks hopefully.

"Not Spanish. Or Latin," Jensen says helpfully.

"Not French," Jolene whispers.

Aisha nods. "Nor any tongues I know." 

"Fantastic," Clay mutters.

"Permission to try something, Capt- Clay?"

Clay shots Jensen a tired glare but nods. "Try not to make the situation worse this time, would you?"

"We are damned," Pooched moans. "We are all damned."

"Be brave, dear husband, I would not suffer to be wed to a coward."

Jensen ignores the others and smiles up at the painted man. He meets Jensen's eyes and raises a painted brow. Jensen bends his neck nodding towards the shore.

"The men you most likely seek are long gone."

"Brilliant, Jensen," Roque grouses. "What a genius yo-"

"Shut your mouth, Roque, else your breath scares him away," Jensen responds sweetly, continuing to nod towards the water and footprints leading to it.

The man turns and takes notice, examining the tracks in the sand. He glances over the group before giving another questioning look to Jensen.

Jensen cranes his neck and nods towards his tied hands. "A little help would be appreciated."

"I fail to see how is this useful," Aisha complains. "He does not understand a word you say."

"But at least we are interacting without arrows or swords! That is a fine start." 

Jensen nods behind him again under the stranger's gaze. After a moment the painted man stands slowly and circles around the group.

"Do not follow his movements. You have the appearance of a man out for blood," Jensen hisses to Roque. "Attempt to appear relaxed, our only communication right now is that which is not voiced."

"He is right," Clay agrees, leaning back against the tree he's bound to."You would not trust a man who is tensed to fight you, would you Roque?"

The group falls into silence, breaths held as they do their best to ignore their better instincts that cry to look behind them. A soft rustling comes from Jensen's back.

"If you could be so kind as to- OW!" Jensen shouts, jerking both hands forward as his ropes fall away. Jensen turns around, glaring at his rescuer, who has a stone knife clutched tightly in his hand. 

"Thank you, but next time perhaps try to _only_ cut the ropes."

"Jensen, be silent and get me loose!" Clay orders in a low voice.

Jensen shakes his head, "I would think sudden movements would not be welcomed at this point."

"And I would think his knife in your throat would also not be welcomed, so get us free so we may prevent that," Roque growls.

"He untied me, I doubt he will try to stab me. Trust me a little longer."

"I trust you as far as I can toss you!"

Jensen mutters under his breath as he waves Roque off before turning to sit facing the stranger. "Hello."

The painted man tilts his head, long hair spilling over his shoulder. The grip on his blade remains tight, but the rest of him appears outwardly calm as he observes Jensen.

"I thank you kindly for your aid and your lack of a shirt," Jensen smiles, leaning forward and gesturing hopefully towards Clay's ropes. "Perhaps you would consider cutting this old man’s ropes away?"

"Jensen," Clay says in warning. 

Jensen ignores him, smile widening. "He is aged and senile, he could do you no harm." Jensen leans forward to tap at Clay's bindings. "Please?"

Surprisingly, after a moment of contemplation the painted man moves forward, eyes fixed on Jensen as he saws at Clay's bindings. When they fall Clay pulls his arms forward, rubbing at his wrists.

"I assume I should stay where I am?"

"You assume correctly. I told you it could be done," Jensen sings happily at the others.

"I would buy you all the ale you could drink if only you swore not to be a picaroon about this," Pooch says despite the smile on his face. "Alas, such a thing could not be sworn by you."

"Set your pride aside and admit your admiration of me."

"I would sooner swallow an iron bolt," Pooch falls silent as the painted man moves to cut at his bindings next.

"I will be sure to signal the first Naval ship we see. I am certain they would welcome you with all the bolts and cockroaches you could stomach."

"Brat."

Jensen sticks out his tongue just as Jolene's hands are also freed.

"Thanks to you," Jolene nods towards the man who moves onto Roque. "Why is he doing this?"

Jensen shrugs. "People from all lands adore me and are driven to do my bidding. It is a curse I suffer."

Pooch rolls his eyes. "You, Jensen are the curse we suffer." 

After the last of them are freed their rescuer stands, knife still in hand as his eyes flit between them.

"What now, wise one?" Aisha asks.

Jensen shrugs.

"This will teach me not to place such high confidence in you. When will I learn?"

Jensen frowns, looking lost in thought before turning to motion Aisha towards him. "Be slow about it," Jensen cautions her. "And do not beat me to death for what I am about to do."

Aisha's eyes narrow, but she crawls forward slowly. "I promise you no such thing." 

When Aisha is crouched next to him, Jensen reaches over to pat the crown of her head. "Aisha," he says plainly before gesturing to himself. "Jensen." In turn he points to each person, naming them before resting a hand over Aisha's head again. "Aisha." He gestures again at himself. "Jensen." With a smile Jensen gestures towards their rescuer. 

"Cougar."

"Cougar!" Jensen nods, smiling broadly. "Well, I shall allow you all to buy me drinks when we reach civilization and tell me long-winded tales of how much you admire me."

Roque snorts. "You received his name. Wade could do the same, given motivation."

"And yet, Roque, this was something _you_ were unable to manage."

"I also did not try," Roque moves to stand, only to have Cougar unsling his bow and point an arrow at Roque's chest with startlingly quickness. 

Roque slowly raises his hands in surrender. "Jensen?"

"Yes, dear Roque?"

Roque grits his teeth. "Could you be bothered to do something about this, perhaps?" 

Jensen frowns, looking around the beach in feigned contemplation. "I shall see if I can find Wade. He might be-"

"Jensen," Clay cuts him off with a pointed look.

"You are all buying me ale." With an exaggerated sigh, Jensen stands, hands raised and open. 

Cougar's eyes follow Jensen but his arrow stays pointed steadily at Roque.

"Cougar," Jensen says with a smile as he moves slowly towards Roque, "as much as I understand your motivations, I am forced to request you do not harm this lurdane."

Jensen inches forward to place his body between Roque and Cougar's arrow. Cougar frowns, but lowers his bow slowly as Jensen continues to smile at back him.

"Roque, I shall accept payment for this deed in coin or songs of my noble rescue of your person."

\----

It takes a while, but eventually Cougar stops raising his arrows at any signs of sudden movement. He hovers next to Jensen, eyes tracking them as they talk amongst themselves.

When Jolene's stomach rumbles Cougar's lips curl up faintly. As he reaches to open the bag slung over his body and hands over four pieces of fruit and an animal's bladder full of water.

"Thank you," Jolene tells him with a genuine smile. 

Cougar inclines his head and watches as Jolene divides the sour fruits and passes the bladder around the circle. 

When the food is gone Cougar drags Jensen by his sleeves to a patch of sand containing footprints and drops of blood long dried into sandy clumps. Cougar gestures towards them and looks at Jensen expectantly. Jensen crouches next to him, pointing towards the stray drops, then the footprints, and then the water. 

"Max," Jensen explains. Jensen turns, gesturing Roque over to them. 

"What?"

"Show Cougar the wound Wade gave you."

Roque scoffs. "Tis no wound. Tis a scratch."

Jensen rolls his eyes. "Then display your scratch."

"I better not feel your eyes upon my chest."

"But, my hands, would that be-"

Roque kicks sand at Jensen, who chuckles. Under Cougar's confused look Roque lifts his shirt to reveal a long and crusted gash over his breast.

Jensen gestures to the wound and then again to the footprints and water. "Max."

Cougar says nothing, but nods, eyes moving to watch the water rolling in against the shore. 

"Does he understand you?"

Jensen shrugs. "He has not made a move to kill us, _and_ he has shared his food with us. I doubt he thinks us responsible for whatever foulness Max has brought upon these shores."

\----

"I can not recall the last time you have slept," Aisha says quietly as the others begin to bed down on the forest floor.

Jensen waves her off. "Who desires sleep when they have a puzzle to unravel?"

"People with sound minds?" Aisha glances over at Jensen's 'puzzle' as he tends to the second fire before looking towards Jensen and Aisha. Aisha nods and receives a nod in return. "Take caution with your..." Aisha waves her hand ambiguously.

"Deviancy," Jensen supplies with a bitter smile. "It seems to be the most popular term. Unless you ask Jolene; she thinks it a _delightful_ thing."

"Love in all its forms should be delightful," Aisha agrees, "but your painted warrior's people may not be as tolerant as some."

Jensen shoots her a poisoned look. "You think I would try such a thing?"

Aisha shrugs. "I myself am tempted to try my chances."

Jensen smirks before his face returns to neutrality. Aisha looks him over before dragging Jensen closer by his ear to plant a chaste kiss on his forehead.

"Banish your dark thoughts. They do not suit you."

"I have no dark thoughts."

"Don't lie to me. I have seen how you withdraw from us. Your words keep coming but neither they nor your smiles are genuine." Aisha squints out at the dark water playing along the shore. "You are haunted in our presence. We all see this, and we worry over what it means."

"It means nothing."

"Lies."

"Truth."

"The talk today was loud and crass, the result of wounded pride and betrayal. No one truthfully blames you for what happened. If you hadn't spoken when you did Clay would have drawn his sword to kill Max. We would have _all_ died from the odds of six souls against ten dozen. But your words made Wade draw blood first, and he looked a fool for doing so. Max could not risk killing us after such a display or the rest of the crew might have joined our side."

"You overthink my actions."

"I give them enough thought." Aisha pauses, looking back at the others. "Why did you stop joining our dice games?"

"I had no money left to lose."

"Again you lie to me." A dangerous gleam enters Aisha's eyes. "Was something done? We were a merry band, once, but it's obvious the winds had changed long before this day."

"It is late. Take your rest. Tomorrow is likely to be as unpleasant as today."

"No."

"_Aisha._"

"Despite my sex, my father raised me rough and gave me an iron back. There are things I would back down from when confronted with, but your barking is not one of those things."

"Sometimes," Jensen muses, "I think sometimes you are a divine punishment. A violent and nagging presence sent to remind me of my moral failings and weakness."

Aisha makes a curious sound. "Which be it, a crisis of faith or a crisis of your place amongst us?"

"Place," Jensen admits. "My faith was lost long ago. There is no crisis. there, only a void."

"It was no mystery to anyone as to why you joined with the likes of us when you did. Every member of the Royal Navy was after your head and telling all who would listen of your ways. Yet, Clay signed you on." Aisha nudges Jensen. "He has become infamous over the years for sailing with women and sodomites alike. But neither he, nor the others on this damned beach takes any shame in us. They have never hidden or denied us when convenient. So how do you find reason to doubt your place amongst us?"

Jensen says nothing, watching the waves.

"Ah," Aisha says quietly. "Something was said, then?"

"Overheard," Jensen corrects.

She nods, leaning to rest her head on his shoulder. "Life on a ship is no jolly voyage for a woman, you know. You aren't the only one attacked by the words and opinions of others."

"Ah, so they think you and Jolene unnatural? They consider you an ungodly menace waiting to force yourselves upon them?"

"No. But we have our share of men who attempt to take what is not offered."

Jensen sighs, leaning his head to rest on hers. "I would apologize for being an thoughtless beast, but I fear you would take it as pity and add my ear to your ever-growing collection."

Aisha snorts, anger draining from her. "Smart lad. Now, who said what vexes you? I would claim that no one here would speak that way of you, yet your fake smiles seem aimed towards our group."

"Perhaps it is that no one spoke at all." Jensen sighs, "Now, if you'll excuse me, you need your rest and I have a puzzle to solve."

Aisha makes an unhappy sound, but lifts her head and lets Jensen stand. "Can this wrong be made right?"

Jensen shrugs, and begins wandering over to the second fire, populated only by Cougar. "Time heals all, but before I can allow it to do so I must first to come to a conclusion."

"Do not take long in your thinking. My coin purse is too light these days and meals eaten in silence inflict costiveness upon me. Neither things please me."

Jensen looks back, wrinkling his nose as he laughs. "You are a foul beast."

Aisha shrugs unrepentantly, "I imagine the night will only grow more frigid. Should you wish, there will be a warm place next to this beast when you are ready to retire from your puzzle."

Jensen turns around, walking backwards just long enough to wink and wiggle his eyebrows at her. Aisha quickly scoops up a handful of sand to to throw at his retreating back, laughter is his only response.

\----

Jensen spends half the night doing his best to bridge the language gap. He gets as far as sand, rock, fire, and knife before Cougar stands and moves away from the fire.

"Where are you going?" Jensen calls after him. Cougar turns his head, raising a brow before moving towards the forest. "You're leaving?"

Cougar ignores him in favor of gazing up at various trees surrounding the makeshift camp the others set up.

"What the devil is he doing?" Roque grouses.

"No idea. He just came over here and- Huh. He's apparently climbing a tree." Jensen moves to stand below the tree, craning his neck to watch Cougar settle onto a branch before pulling their cooper's hat low over his eyes. "I think he is sleeping?"

"No one is sleeping with the racket you are making," Clay growls, tossing to his side.

"If your puzzle is sleeping, you should too," Aisha calls in a sleep heavy voice. "I am half frozen, come lay down so I can warm myself."

"That is the worst motivation I have ever been given," Jensen says absently, still staring up the tree.

"Do so quickly, or I will take your ear."

Jensen huffs, but makes his way to where Aisha lies. "This is one of the reasons why the men in the ports run from you."

Aisha snorts, pulling Jensen down and wrapping an arm over him as he places her freezing hands on his side. He jumps, prompting an amused chuckle from her.

"You bawdy ice demon, have you no shame?"

"I'm cold. You're warm," Aisha grunts. "Being warm is much better than dignity."

\----

The entire group wakes the moment Cougar drops from his tree perch. Aisha lifts her head long enough to glare in his direction before resuming her sprawl over Jensen.

"Your puzzle is awake. Get him to find us more water, my throat is parched."

A chours of agreement sounds from the other members.

"And more food," Pooch adds hopefully.

Jensen glares. "How are you still so useless in the morning, even without the aid of drink the night before?" He shoves Aisha away, she quickly rolls toward the nearest body, in search of warmth. Roque pushes at her halfheartedly before allowing her leech-like behavior. Cougar watches curiously.

"Aisha is a snake. Cold blooded and evil," Jensen explains as he stretches. "She is constantly cold and has been known to hobble people who refuse to share their body heat with her."

"Have you taught him English yet?" Clay mutters.

"Yes, in the span of five hours last night I have made him fluent in English while also learning his language."

Clay blinks sleepily before squinting at Jensen.

Jensen sighs. "I can say rock, fire, and knife. I think he remembers some of our names and maybe fire."

Clay frowns. "That is much less impressive."

"You, Clay, are unimpressive," Jensen stands, looking over at Cougar. "Food?" Jensen mimes eating. Cougar cants his head before turning to head into the forest without waiting to see if Jensen follows.

\----

By the time Jensen and Cougar return to camp Aisha and Jolene are sprawled on one side looking cross while the men huddle on the other end of the clearing.

"I leave for an hour and the camp is divided."

Roque stands, clearing his throat and brushing his hands on his trousers. "That night in the Spanish port appears to have caused a misunderstanding."

Jensen crosses his arms, sending Aisha a pointed look. "Indeed?"

"Isaiah swallowed his teeth before the night was over. We only stayed your hand on the ship to avoid the lash."

"It's the honest truth," Pooch adds. "We allowed you no action because we wished to circumvent Moses's Law. We had no plans to forget the insult."

Aisha looks smugly at Jensen.

"So this is why they looked like whipped dogs?"

"They deserve it," Jolene insists. "Had I been there, I would have let you hit him, waited my turn for the lash, and worn the scars on my backs with pride."

"Though, your hidden wallowing did nothing to help these matters resolve themselves any sooner," Aisha points out.

Jensen blinks, nodding absently before a light touch on his arm startles him. Cougar holds out some of the gathered food with a confused expression.

"Ah. Right. Cougar here found a river and food. I also think he wishes us to head west. I think he means to take us to where his people dwell. He kept trying to pull me that way."

"Is traveling that way that wise?" Clay queries. "What actions do we have if his people do not believe us as readily as he?"

"We have no weapons apart from our fists and Jolene's tongue to defend ourselves with," Pooch earns himself a fond glare that loses its bite when the corners of Jolene's mouth curl up.

"I am not seeing a better option. The only ships likely to come by these beaches are Spanish, and they hold no love for us after the losses they have endured at our hands. Cougar's people..." Jensen waves his hand, searching for the right words, "while an unknown, are still our best hope. We have nothing but the clothes on our back and we speak in the tongue of men who the locals know as child killers. We should take any courtesy extended to us, as luck is not on our side. Perhaps through his people we could find a way to get them to warn the others of Max's impend-"

"Max," Cougar cuts Jensen off with a growl, muttering foreign words in a dark tone.

"Jensen?" Clay asks keeping his voice carefully neutral.

Jensen scratches his neck, "I think I heard knife?"

"I would be willing to bet you heard right," Clay sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "Perhaps we can learn of Max's intended location and attempt to meet him there. He's _our_ problem, my foolishness brought him to these shores instead of casting him overboard. It's only just that I cleanse these shores of his presence."

"And getting our rig back would not be a great burden," Aisha muses.

Murmurs of agreement float around.

"Then it is settled," Clay says with a decisive nod. "Jensen, let our friend know we will follow him to his people."

Jensen winces. "The problem with that idea, is that I can do no such thing. I _can_ ask if fruit is bad or good, and I know a handful of words; but I have had less than a day and this is a language without roots in any language I know." Jensen shrugs. "And he seems to be a man of silence which only makes it harder."

"Then do better," Roque urges.

Jensen rolls his eyes. "Of course! Why could I not think of this."

\----

They end up spending the first half the morning watching Jensen try and fail to explain their plans to Cougar. Cougar watches Jensen's increasingly dramatic gestures with a straight face and raised brows.

"Sit down before you start frothing at the mouth," Roque finally snaps.

Jensen makes a face, but follows his advice, staring at the ground in disgust. "I miss my books."

After a moment of silence Jensen sits up straighter, "Clay, how well do you recall the maps of this land?"

Clay frowns, but shrugs. "I know them well, but not with the familiarity of Aisha."

"Aisha, come, come, come," Jensen urges moving to a patch of dirt. "Recreate what you can."

"Using dirt?"

"No, using my fine parchment and quill."

Aisha glares, but kneels, smoothing out the dirt with one hand. After a moment of contemplation she slowly traces the coastline.

"Cougar!" Jensen urges, pointing motioning him over. Cougar stands, watching Aisha filling in a river before drawing an x near the coast.

"Best guess of our location," she says with a shrug.

Cougar frowns, bending down to observe before one hand slowly adds more detail to the river’s path.

Jensen points towards the x, pressing his finger into the dirt as he draws a connecting line headed inland. "Cougar?"

Cougar looks up and gives Jensen an unimpressed look, pointing west. Jensen nods, and Cougar shakes his head, quickly grabs his bag and slides his bow over his torso before turning and starting west, pausing only to look back at the group expectantly.

"Before you exclaim your brilliance, I'd like to point out that Aisha's memory and artistic merits are the the real triumphs," Pooch says dryly.

\----

On the second day of travel they reach a place that is less of a village like Pooch had speculated and more an abandoned city. Plant growth and houses in various stages of ruin line the walkways.

"What happened here?" Jensen asks quietly. Cougar looks back briefly with a hint of curiosity but says nothing.

"_This_ wasn't the work of Max." Clay nods towards a house that has fallen in on itself. "Some of these dwellings have been abandoned for decades."

As they walk the houses begin to look less and less like ruins and more like livable places. Hard eyes watch from inside doorways as they pass, but no one emerges.

"They do not look thrilled at our presence."

"Their children were _slaughtered_, Aisha, we should count ourselves lucky they do not try the same with us," Pooch points out.

Eventually, an old man and a middle aged woman emerge from one of the buildings to stand stiffly in the middle of the road. Cougar stops a few paces from them, inclining his head and speaking in quiet words.

"Catch any of that?" Clay whispers.

Jensen shakes his head. "Tis only a guess, but silence seems advisable right now."

Eventually, the woman speaks, quickly, hands gesturing towards the crew as Cougar stands still. The older man joins in, voices rising angrily until Cougar hold up a single hand.

"Max," Cougar says firmly before gesturing towards them and speaking again in low tones.

For a while their conversation becomes more of an argument, but then the woman raises her hands and Cougar and the elder fall silence. The woman speaks quickly, then motions to the others.

"Is this a-"

Jolene shushes Roque quickly as two pairs of critical eyes look them over before she nods at them.

"Xoc," she says simply.

"Chac," the man says.

Cougar turns, meeting Jensen's eyes. "Name."

"_Do you know this tongue? _" Xoc asks in rough and heavily accented Spanish.

Jensen blinks in surprise, nodding quickly. "_I do._"

"_My son says you know who is responsible for taking our children._"

Jensen glances over at Cougar, who is watching him. "_We do._ "

"_Is he an ally of yours?_"

"_Max is no ally of ours, and we have reason to believe he is not done visiting his violence on your shores._"

The woman nods, "_Then, come. Sit at my table and share a meal, we have much to discuss._"

\----

"So?"

"So, I think she believes us."

Clay nods, chewing thoughtfully at his bread. "Does she have knowledge of the city Max is after?"

Jensen turns to Xoc, speaking lowly as the whole table watches them.

Xoc nods, patting at Cougar's hand and speaking. Cougar nods, the corner of his lips turning up as Xoc switches back to Ch’olan.

"She does, and she says Cougar can take us there. He'll help us."

"Do they have any warriors to spare to this cause?"

Jensen's face falls at Clay's question. "The few they had fell when Max arrived. From what she said earlier, their tribe is small. Sickness, stronger tribes, and bad crop yields have eaten away at their numbers for many years."

"And now they've lost their children," Jolene murmurs.

"We'll kill him," Clay says, meeting Xoc's eyes. "Tell her we'll kill Max and every man who harmed one of their children. We'll bring her their heads."

\----

After their meal Cougar and Xoc walk them to the empty house they'll be using for the night.

Cougar hands out blankets as Xoc and Jensen talk quietly in a gradual mix of Spanish and Ch’olan.

"What are you doing?"

Jensen smiles over at Roque. "It's easier to learn a language when you have a language in common. We're playing word games to help me get good enough I can hopefully teach you."

Roque smirks, laying out his blanket next to Clay's. "You any good?"

Jensen carefully responds in Ch’olan. Next to him Xoc laughs and Cougar shakes his head, tapping on Jensen's arm. Cougar gestures to Roque and repeats a word twice and smirking when Jensen parrots it back. Xoc scoffs and shakes her head at both of them.

"What did you say?" Roque crosses his arms, glaring across the room.

Jensen beams proudly. "I compared you to rotten fruit, but I think Cougar just taught me a much more interesting word."

\----

"You and Cougar seem to be understanding each other," Aisha whispers, curling closer to Jensen to fight off the cold. Despite the brightly colored blankets supplied by Xoc, Aisha's feet still feel like ice.

"It's easier now that Xoc can help me understand what's being said."

"How does she know Spanish?"

"Cougar's father was Spanish from what I gather. A group of foreign men stayed in the cities ruins for several years."

Aisha hums. "She watches you when you're with your puzzle."

"They all watch us. All the time," Jensen points out. "We're strangers."

"Not like that. I think she knows what you think of her son." Aisha pauses, wrapping an arm around Jensen and pulling him closer while ignoring his protests. "Perhaps you should find a quiet place and talk to your puzzle."

Jensen sighs, tugging their blanket up. "To what end? Will you be leaving me here when you return?"

"No, but doing what we're doing- there won't be enough of us to get the boat sea ready. Even if we did, what crew could we find that would sail with the likes of us? No crew would make Clay a captain after all this."

"Oh."

"Stop worrying," Roque voice says into the dark. "If we become stranded here, you can drown your sorrow over the loss of your books in your shirtless friend."

"What he _means_, is that it won't be so bad. We're together. We have allies. This is far from a cruel fate," Jolene says soothingly from across the room. "Besides, our guide seems to watch you as much as you watch him."

"He _what_?"

"Watches you," Pooch says with laughter in his voice. "He watches you like Clay watches crazed tavern girls and Roque watches the blacksmith's wares."

"Oh..."

"You should talk to him," Jolene urges. "Or kiss him soundly, that might work too."

"Oh," Jensen repeats dumbly.

"If I had known this was all it took to silence him I would have hired a matchmaker years ago," Clay grouses. "Now all of you shut up so that I may sleep."

\----

"_It would be a shame if you died before you or my son worked up your courage,_" Xoc says in quiet Spanish as she hands a dagger and a bundle of dried meat to Jensen.

"_What?_" Jensen startles, and out of the corner of his eye he catches Cougar's eyes watching him in a way that does little to calm him. Suddenly Cougar is there, taking the offered bundle and shoving it into his bag. He gives his mother an unamused look.

Xoc laughs, speaking too quickly in Ch’olan for Jensen to follow. Cougar's cheeks redden as he herds Jensen away from his mother and back to the others before returning to speak quietly to Xoc.

Jolene chuckles, poking Jensen in his ribs. "I don't need to speak their language to know something entertaining just happened."

"Pooch, I beg you to calm your wife."

\----

They spend the first leg of their journey practicing with the bow and arrows given to them.

"Fetch," Aisha calls to Clay as her arrow imbeds itself in a tree in front of them.

"I'll fetch it when we arrive there," Clay grumbles. "Then I'll break it over your head."

Next to Aisha Jolene lines up a shot, hitting just below Aisha's mark.

"Pooch. Fetch."

"Darling, my love has its limits. And those were reached a dozen arrows ago."

Cougar gives Jensen a questioning look before taking off in front of the group and returning with the arrows.

Jolene smiles as she accepts hers back. "_Thank you._" She says carefully in Ch’olan. Cougar nods, patting her bow and motioning towards the same tree.

"He fetches without being asked and knows his way around a weapon. If you do not claim him soon, I will be sorely tempted to try my luck," Aisha whispers to Jensen.

\----

On their first night of travel, Cougar snatches up Jensen's blanket and moves it next to him when Jensen goes with Roque to collect water. When they return, Aisha and Cougar are staring at each other from either side of Jensen's blanket.

"What-"

"Come here. The night is cold," Aisha orders.

Jensen rolls his eyes. "So warm yourself against Clay."

"Roque gets cranky when I steal his fair captain away."

Jensen grimaces. "Pooch and Jolene?"

Aisha gives him a sour look.

"What about Cougar?"

Aisha hums, smiling slowly at Jensen. "Yes... that might b-"

"Never mind," Jensen snaps. "I'll warm your feet."

Jensen lays down on his blanket, sighing as Aisha attaches herself to his side. Cougar's expression closes off until Jensen starts speaking carefully Ch’olan. After a while he achieves his goal and Cougar glances down at Aisha before smirking.

"Do I want to know what you are saying?"

"Probably not," Jensen admits.

Cougar moves to sit next to Jensen, tugging his hat down as he watches the others settle in to camp for the night.

"He likes you."

Jensen scoffs. "You're mad as your feet are cold."

\----

The second day's journey is all uphill.

By night, they are too tired to do much more than collapse at the first sign of shelter. No one bothers putting down blankets, instead they all huddle next to each other against the cave wall.

"It feels like we're still on the ship," Pooch complains.

"It feels safe to have others so close," Jolene admits. "Now hush and sleep, we still have more land to cover in the morning."

Jensen falls asleep with a smile on his face, Cougar's head on his shoulder, and Aisha's unpleasantly cold feet against his.

\----

On the third day a combination of prodding from Aisha and judgmental looks from Roque prompts Jensen to work up the courage to say something to Cougar.

Jensen is halfway into his rambling speech in broken Ch’olan when Cougar stops him with a kiss.

"Yes?" Cougar asks when he pulls away.

Jensen forgoes thought, pulling Cougar into another kiss while he ignores the happy sounds Jolene is making and Aisha's complaints as to who will warm her feet now.

**Author's Note:**

> Was previously posted, then taken down. Now it's back up. Beware the errors and typos, I suspect the files I found on my old hard drive are the pre-beta versions.  
Please don't steal any of my silly stories and change some names around and then try to sell them as books on Amazon or I'm gonna have to take everything down again.


End file.
